Exposed to Secure

“Dead Eyed Acquaintance”

Looking ahead, the road seemed to melt into the sky. Heading upward like one big, blurry haze. It was Summer in New Mexico, and we made our way in the direction of what we hoped would lead to civilization. There was a trail of abandoned belongings we had left behind us as we walked. The very same items that mere hours earlier we found ourselves unable to leave when leaving behind our broken down car. 

That 1970s Volkswagen Rabbit had done all it could to help get us out of the off-grid terrain where, for the past week, we’d been camping out of sight and near a small river bed. That morning, we were on our way to a festival in Colorado. As we began to leave, it was just after the car started forward that there was a loud sound. It wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard come from a car before. We came to an abrupt and violent stop, all of us were thrown forward. We all said in that questioning tone that carried a hint of terror, “What was that?!” After getting out and investigating, finding the problem was no problem at all. Popping the hood up, we looked inside to see the engine was sitting on the ground. It had fallen right through the bottom. The rabbit had died. 

We decided what to carry with us before understanding how the weight of things would multiply by distance and heat. When I first realized I’d have to start letting things go, my little tent was first, then the towel, and quickly, everything but my guitar was losing its usefulness. Every ounce was feeling more like pounds, so when I found that little shot-sized hotel shampoo bottle in my bag, I thought, “Why keep it? I may never live to see another shower!”

A vehicle approached us from behind, and we hoped this one would finally be one that would stop, and it did. The driver was an older man with a somewhat odd appearance who, under different circumstances, wasn’t someone I’d be quick to talk to. But standing there drained, dehydrated, and hungry made him seem completely approachable. When he offered us a ride, I didn’t have to think about it long. It would be different if I had been alone, but I had friends with me. I’m convinced I put up with those three guys simply for the sense of security I could feel having them around. So why not get in the van? There could be worse outcomes, like dying with my last breath, being the taste of dust on the side of a melting road. When I felt the A/C escape from the window he’d opened to talk to us, that was the very moment I decided… it was worth the risk.

We soon learned the owner of this pretty sweet vintage van was a writer who’d been published. Whether it was questionable material or not wasn’t the point. He was kind enough to help us out and even circled back to let us get some of our things. All I wanted was my small tent and towel. He gave us bottled water and offered some interesting conversations during the ride. We lay in the back, enjoying the cool air in this shaggy carpeted ride to the nearest town, which signs showed was only a little more than twenty miles away.

This was going to be a night that I experienced something that wouldn’t become completely clear till years later.

As soon as we arrived, we found a busy local shopping center. With the guitar case propped open, I was off and playing, right in the middle of a beautiful place called Taos. Within an hour of busking and before being told I couldn’t play without a permit, I was satisfied with the little over $50 I’d made, and we headed the two blocks to the grocery store. We hadn’t eaten since abandoning the car early that morning. While shopping for options, we decided we’d be fine with crackers, cheese, some mixed nuts, and a case of cold beer from the cooler. 

Heading to the nearest park to finally relax a bit, eat, and try to figure out what to do next. There was no doubt that our vehicle was beyond rescue. From a distance, I could see it. The largest tree in the park. It stood there like a tall tribute to shaded splendor. We found our way to the grass there under the leaves, and it wasn’t long before we were enjoying the evening. The air was sweet and slowly cooling as that blazing ball in the sky fell behind the shelter of our green oasis. We didn’t know if we would make it to the festival, and we didn’t have a plan for where to sleep for the night. But it wasn’t long before we forgot about having to worry about all of that. Soon we were back to our usual way of laughing and teasing each other. Saying things that got close to going too far, but never made it across that invisible line.

The part where we were enjoying ourselves quickly faded away as a shirtless stranger made his way over. He was large and of Native American descent. He came up close enough to me that I could see his dark eyes that were blank, it was like looking right into a deep black hole, completely void of any noticeable kindness. Rudely, he sat down next to me. Actually, it couldn’t be described as sitting; it was more like an ungraceful kind of falling as he intruded on my personal space. My friends were looking a little uneasy and even more than a little intimidated. They quickly offered him some cheese and crackers. They even gave this rude brute of a man a can of the cool beverage I had labored for. He drank the drink, but took the crackers in his large, puffy hands and crushed them. He let the crumbs fall slowly on the ground and brushed his hands on his bare chest. 

That. Was. It! I was ready to fight! 

My friend, who was sitting next to me, pulled me over close and said quietly through clenched teeth, “This guy doesn’t look right in the head.” 

He warned me to try to be polite till we were rid of him. His readable eyes told me I needed to take him seriously. So, I did. I stayed quiet. Almost bit my tongue off trying not to say what I wanted so badly to say. While under his breath, this uninvited party crasher was calling me a few choice names and murmuring inappropriate things. Never really talking to anyone, just sitting there staring, and making it impossible to feel the comfort we’d enjoyed before his arrival. I was upset he’d been allowed to stay there as long as he had. My friends weren’t looking to take this guy on, and fighting in a public park isn’t the way to avoid trouble. I wanted to make him leave, but how? Whenever I started to tell him to go, my eyes met the warning eyes around me, and my mouth would close. My fists were still clenching tighter than they had ever been. So when the park announced it was about to close, we saw the chance to bid our very large, native American, far from a gentleman, intruder adieu.

We headed to the farthest side of the park to lay out our sleeping bags and lay low while the park was cleared and locked up. We’d deal with tomorrow, tomorrow. For now, it was nice to have a place to lie down and rest. It had been the kind of day that had felt more like a long week. 

The events of that morning faded into a memory that seemed like it was from farther away than forty-something miles and twelve-something hours. It’s crazy how one day can feel like a lifetime and a lifetime can feel like a day.

The same friend who had so strongly cautioned me earlier asked if he could put his sleeping bag next to mine. He still felt uneasy and said he would sleep better if he knew I was okay. The other two traveling with us went off to lie down in another area of the park. They were good at disappearing, but I never minded since they were the more obnoxious members of our small band of gypsies. The best of them was the one camping beside me. He was freshly twenty and looked out for me like a brother. We had met at the Woody Guthrie festival on our way through Oklahoma, and he’d been traveling with us ever since. 

I lay down there on the hard ground, and it wasn’t long before I was asleep. A deep sleep. So deep that when I first opened my eyes, I felt like I could be in a dream. I saw two lights coming towards us. They seemed similar to a car’s headlights. I thought, “What is a car doing in the park?”

The firm tapping on my shoulder could have been what caused my sudden awakening. Looking behind me, I could see my friend, his eyes open wide, as he stared intensely. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He had a cold stare locked in the direction of our feet. The assumed headlights had moved close enough to illuminate the outline of a figure lying on the ground, there at our feet and within reach.

When my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I was looking into the same dark, glossy, dead eyes that had leered at me earlier that evening. He had lain there still and shirtless even though the night had grown cold. There’s no way to know the thoughts that went through his mind while he was there. How long had that been? The lights suddenly grew brighter as they quickly approached. Our disturbed visitor turned to see the two policemen with flashlights who had been making their way to us. Suddenly, he was on his feet, and a full-on fight ensued. The officers worked to wrestle the half-naked psychopath down. There were headlocks and hits, batons waving in all directions, until finally, one of the officers had pinned him face down on the ground, and held him there with his arms up behind his back. 

The other officer turned to us and said, “We’ve been looking for this guy all day.” He added, “You aren’t allowed to sleep here. You’d best be gone in the morning.” They carted this guy away without ever sharing what he was wanted for. How could they know we were there? Could someone have reported seeing that guy in the park right before it closed? Or it could be that someone reported a strange group of hippies moving in the opposite direction on the park’s exit, at closing time. We had been camped there close to the fence on the back of the park. Maybe there were some houses or apartments with a view of the park, and someone had called in what they saw.

A few ideas have come to mind for why the cops showed up right where we were, but since everything had turned out all right, I was able to shrug it off as a close call. Falling back asleep, I must have sensed how much I would need my rest before facing another day. Unsure where we would go and how to get there.

The next morning, we woke up determined not to wait until the last minute before trying to find a better place to sleep. I started rolling up my sleeping bag, and as the end came closer, I noticed something shiny. Bending down, I picked up a small flashlight and a not-so-small knife from where they lay on the ground, where our unsettling visitor had been lying. Looking more closely, I saw stab marks driven deep into the hardened dirt. I gave up counting the wounds on that poor patch of earth. At the time, I took the near miss as just a stroke of luck. 

Several years later, while enjoying the comfort of my mother’s kitchen, I discovered it had all been one of the sweetest twists of fate: “Divine Intervention.” 

That night, as we sat there, sipping coffee and talking, my mother was telling me about how God woke her many mornings throughout that year while I was traveling cross-country. So much time passed without her knowing where I was or if I was alright. Protection and provision were prayed over me every day. It was always right around 3 a.m. that she was awakened with an urgency to pray. 

She mentioned a morning when God had awoken her at 2 o’clock and called her to get on her face in prayer for me. She remembered it because it was an hour earlier than usual. 

“It felt more intense than other mornings,” she said.

That was when I was reminded of the night we had a near miss with the dead-eyed acquaintance. I told her the story of what had happened. It was the first time I had ever shared it with anyone. When I finished telling her, tears were swelling in my mother’s loving eyes. She leaned in and asked, “Do you remember what time it was?”

I had looked at my phone before going back to sleep, and I remember seeing the time right at 2:01 a.m.  

Her expression changed. 

“That couldn’t have been the morning I was thinking of.” 

She recalled it so clearly, including the exact time she had started to pray that desperate prayer. Only when she’d begun to pray was at the same time that the officers had started dragging my “near miss” back through the park. 

There was a disappointed tone as she said, “That couldn’t have been it.”  

My eyes widened, tears welling, and with chills mounting, I told her, “Mom, we were on mountain time!”  

We cried and praised God together! 

I want to thank my mother for faithfully praying for me and not giving up on the hope that I would be able to know Christ for myself. I could have lost my life, but it was the faithfulness of a mother to pray that is the reason I survived to find new life.

Even before I believed in his existence, He’d been working things out on my behalf. I’ve been shown and continue to find that God has always been there for me. That’s how I can confidently say to anyone, “No matter what you’re going through, there is hope!” 

Before saying yes to the Lord, there wasn’t much that I said no to. I lived hoping there was a pill I could take that would make it all better. Something that I could inhale that would make the pain go away. There were lines I walked and many I consumed on my wayward journey to find peace. It all just left me worse off than I was before. Please know that no matter the addiction, self-destruction, how far we’ve gone, or how little we have, God is always the answer and the one thing we can find comfort in.

Confidence is not found in what we know, but in Who.

 

At that time in my life, I would have answered to Exposed. There was no security or safe place I could call my own, but God calls me Secure. I can find my security in Him. He is my refuge and place of comfort, protection, and covering.

 

Have you ever felt exposed? There could be ways that you have been protected and watched over that you just haven’t seen the evidence of yet. I believe that we can have confidence in the strength provided in the name of Jesus and boldness through the power of the Holy Spirit that is within us. My experience feels like a lifetime ago but maybe yours is something that is still very much today. Maybe even in this moment. Will you join me in praying this prayer as a child of God, speaking to the heart of our Father:

 

Father, thank You for Your protection and provision. For being my shield and my strength. I want to be open to see the ways You are there for me now and always have been. Allow me to see Your truth overpower every darkness deception tries to bring to my mind. You release souls that have been kept from the freedom of Your truth. Let me be released in Jesus name! Thank You for Your grace and healing. I claim Your promises and write Your words of healing and strength, right here on my heart. I will carry them with me always. I claim Your healing for my mind, heart, and every one of my hurts, in Jesus’ name! ~Amen

 

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

For He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and buckler.

You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor the destruction that wastes at noonday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. You will only look with your eyes and see the recompense of the wicked. Because you have made the Lord your dwelling place—the Most High, who is my refuge—no evil shall be allowed to befall you, no plague will come near your tent. For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone.

You will tread on the lion and the adder; the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot.

Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name. When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble. I will rescue him and honor him. With long life, I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.  Psalm 91 NIV